Taking Flight
by Angel Grace
Summary: Jayne/River vignette. Inspired by Jayne and Book starting their workouts at the end of "Objects in Space."


Title: Taking Flight

Author: Angel Grace

Rating: PG-13, light R

Pairing: Jayne/River

Spoilers: for "Ariel" and "Objects in Space," specifically

Summary: A post-"Objects in Space" vignette between River and Jayne.  Inspired by Jayne starting his workout at the end of the ep.

Disclaimer:  They're not mine.  They're Joss', and Mutant Enemy's, and the FOX fools'.  I just like to play with them.

Author's Note:  I wrote this for Meg, to make up for not posting a chapter of "Deck the Airlocks" in time.  It's really just kind of a fluff piece, and you might think it's a bit out of character, so take it as you will.

Jayne Cobb methodically went through the steps of his daily workout.  Fifty reps on the weight bench.  One hundred reps per arm with the free weights.  Twenty-five pull-ups—he could do more, but they got borin'.  One hundred push-ups.

                The repetition was soothing as he counted in his head.  'Specially today, when they'd had all sorts o' ruckus the night before.  'Course, he'd slept through most of it.  Too bad, too, since it just mighta been his best chance to finally be rid of that whiny doctor and his gorram sister.

                He just couldn't figure why the rest of the crew was so all-fired determined to keep them on board.  Sure, Mal had some moral code that seemed to change as he needed it to; Kaylee had a soft spot for the doc and was too soft-hearted to boot anybody off; and the preacher was, well, the preacher.  But the rest of 'em?  Hell, he'd a thought they'd be just as eager as he was to be done with the pair.

                And how come nobody seemed to give a second gorram thought to the fact that the crazy little girl had come after him with a ruttin' knife?  Ever'body was so quick to jump to her defense.  He made one lousy call to the Feds and Mal nearly blew him out an airlock, but River stabs him and that's jist fine?  Bastards.

                He carefully regulated his breathing as he did his push-ups, his gaze practically boring a hole in the deck.  He had just hit fifty when a prickling on the back of his neck told him someone was watching.  Glancing up, he saw River standing before him.  "Go 'way, girl," he growled, and then returned his attention to the deck.

                There was no answer, and Jayne thought maybe she'd finally gotten hold of some of the sense God gives all of us and listened to him.  That assumption was disproved when he felt a weight settle gently on his back.

                He stopped mid-push-up, and craned his neck to peer at the waif perched atop him.  "What the ruttin' hell're you doin', girl?"

                "Riding."

                Well, there was a word that made all sorts of interestin' images pop up in his mind.

                "Git off.  I ain't a horse."

                "If you were, we could have steak," she said in her lilting, laughing voice.

                "You was listenin' to us?  You ain't nothin' but a common sneak, are ya?"

                "Not common.  Not a sneak.  I am _Serenity_.  I hear all.  I see all.  I know all."

                "If that's true, you know you're in a fair bit o' danger o' gettin' ejected right now."

                She laughed, and he felt her carefully fold her legs beneath her, the bones of her ankles digging into his shoulder blades.

                "No danger," she giggled.  "I can fly."

                "I just bet you can," he mumbled.

                She was silent, and he resumed his push-ups.  He reckoned it was more trouble tryin' to get her off him than just dealin' with the extra weight—not that there was much.

                He paused again when he felt her moving, and realized with a start that she was standing up.  Shaking his head, he resumed his exercise a second time.

                That's when she began to dance.  Her feet moved lightly and quickly across the broad expanse of his back, never faltering even as he moved.

                "I can help you fly, Jayne," she whispered in a singsong voice.  "Not the way the captain was going to make you fly, out in the dark with the stars."  Her feet stilled, and she delicately dragged one toe along the length of his spine.  He felt heat flooding his body and heading south, and forced himself to continue his regimen.

                Her foot began to trace intricate patterns, and she spoke again.  "I can help you fly where colors explode and you can touch stars and the ocean rushes inside you.  I know you like to fly, Jayne."

                He wasn't sure she had ever said his name before.  Somehow, it sounded…different spilling from her frenzied lips.  And the nonsense she was babbling was putting to mind sex, for some reason.

                "I ain't of no mind to fly with you, girl."

                She dropped back to a sitting position, and began to stroke her long fingers through his hair.  "You fly with me every night, Jayne.  You just didn't know.  Now you know."

                "You don't know what you're talking about."

                She leaned forward, and when she spoke, her breath brushed his ear.  "Yes I do.  I know you want to fly with me."

                He didn't respond, but his arms were starting to tremble, and he was undeniably aroused.

                Without another word, she stretched herself full length upon his back, her tiny breasts pressed tightly against him.  One small hand stroked along his side, and the other snaked around his waist to begin fumbling with his belt buckle.

                He knew he should stop her, should push her off him and run like hell.  But when one cold little hand found its way inside his pants and grasped him, Jayne Cobb gave in to the need to fly.


End file.
